Thursday, December 31, 2009

Whenever I have some kind of physical issue I just wish I didn't have whatever body part is causing the ruckus. Like when my nose stuffs up I have all these daydreams about just popping it off like a Mr. Potato Head until it chills out and stops making my life miserable.

But, now, what should I fantasize about? The pain all over my face was caused by the removal of the problem. Day dream about shoving the four teeth back in?

Things...are not so good right now. So, I'll make a list to ease my troubled nerves.

New Year's Resolutions-drink less coffee-stop specifying people's age, race, sex, sexuality, or culture unless it specifically correlates to the point of discussion (for example I want to start saying, "the woman next to me on the airplane" instead of "the old black woman next to me on the airplane")

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

When I found out I was being hooked up to an IV pre-surgery I laughed and laughed. The anxiety of an IV just hit me right in the funny bone. A month later (yesterday) I found myself giggling like mad again as I changed into my hospital gown. Then things were getting black and I could hear me laughing before feeling the sudden needle prick, and I burst into tears.

Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark. I can't see anything. My cheeks hurt and are very cold. Eggs are filling my mouth.

This was actually a few hours after the surgery. I don't remember waking up or leaving the office or a darn thing even though apparently I was talking to my dad and sister and fully able to walk to the car myself. I apparently demanded to watch Third Rock from the Sun and accepted to eat some egg. But, as I said previously, all I was conscious of is someone cramming egg into my mouth.

An hour or so later I woke up to Back to the Future. From that point on I thought I was my old self again--even with the gauze in. Uh. No. I actually didn't regain non-crazy form until around 10 PM.

Things that Happened (when I thought I was fine but actually I was still on the bus to wacko-land):

-whined to no end about the gauze in my mouth but also demanded my sister take pictures-in a panic asked, "why is my lip...so close to my lip?"-tried to drink some salt water, but it dribbled out onto my crotch, so when my sister returned I announced sadly, "I peed."-drooled all over-had at least three conversations about the same four topics with absolutely no recollection of it: wanting to watch Sex and the City DVDs and being heartbroken when Pookie said she didn't bring them, asking about why the ice packs on my face were so cold, my astonishment of how drugged I must have been to not remember leaving the surgery, and what I was going to do about my broken computer-speaking of, I USED my computer several times yesterday because every time I woke up I thought I was fine when really I was still cracked out--many IM conversations I do not remember and I'm pretty sure I submitted poetry to a few journals-went to the bathroom and was so happy I decided to live there, had a laughing attack about my new life in the bathroom with my sister outside the door worrying I was crying-when I did decide not to live in the bathroom I came out to the couch and sobbed yelling, "It's not even funny! It's from here (pointing to my gut) not from here (pointing to my head)!"

Monday, December 28, 2009

"I make more money than Calvin...Coolidge...put together!" 2006 Linda, Cosmo, and Don in Singin' in the Rain

Remember when I was blond? Woof city. It was just about four years ago exactly that the awful dye job occurred. Oh, to suffer for art. To jank every healthy chemical out of your hair and leave yourself looking awful for two more years (even after three attempts at bringing the brown back).

I mean just look at that nasty top-dark bottom-gold color I'm trying to rock in this photo of Wall and I New Years 2007.

Really, I didn't care that much. Clearly. I don't have much shame when doing things I need to do. On the Survivor application (post-grad plans here I come!) it asks what you won't do for a milli. I was totally stumped.

Trelly: Wait...but would you...Me: Yes.Trelly: Kill someone?Me: Well...maybe. Oh. Okay. No.Trelly: So no people or animals?Me: Animals? No. I'd kill animals.Wizzy: Why are you so sick?

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Last night Pookie and I stayed too late in the snowy city and ended up spending the night. Pookie bought us some cheap jammies. We passed out sharing a tiny blanket. Ah...nothing like waking up and going to breakfast in the clothes from last night. Wiping your teeth with a wash cloth. As she was slumped in bed whapping away at her beeping cell phone I started to sing "Rise and Shine" and she started to whap at me instead. This is so familiar. The familiarity is even familiar. Waking up and bugging each other like we did on so many vacations. Me criticizing her driving. Going to the movies. Everything we do together is like things before, and that is anything but boring.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I want to be back in my house with Grinz and Yatchface. New addition: Muff.

Secondly, I have gotten to the kick-boxing regiment of my work-out DVDs, and it is too much fun. I really feel like I could win in some fights now. That's because when I watch the trainer I feel like I look like her. This is most probably very untrue. Still, I'm totally diggin' it. 1,2, PUNCH! 1,2, KICK! Yah!

Friday, December 25, 2009

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Shoot Dang did I have a good trip down south! Saw horses and George W. outside a church. So the thing about Trelly is her dad owns like a hundred horses that they breed for racing. Hella famous horses. We bopped around his ranch and saw them all. It was kinda cool, but I'm not into horses. Whatever, you know.

Meanwhile, there's probably some kid (or adult) who knows about all these horses--like the ones that win things. So unfair. I was right with them sort of waiting around to leave when horse-lovers would be wishing on a star for that experience.

Like musicians' familys that have always heard their cousin bragging and pounding away at the piano. They don't care. Meanwhile, a true fan would just keel over at such a chance. Wouldn't it be nice if the world could just rubix-cube itself to align everyone with their lofty hobbies and dreams?

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Hilarious and rather driven. Cute but not so hung up on that type of thing--which is rather perfect for me. Obvious reasons. Oh, fine, I may or may not have a pair of purple cut-off sweatpants that I consider an important part of my wardrobe. Anyway, Steven is smart enough to be in med school but goofy enough to be a comic instead. He's always up for an adventure and seems to share many of my life values.

...but perhaps I could be with someone a bit sunnier. That is a gargantuan understatement. He is depressed beyond repair. Balls.

4. Harry (Charlotte's Guy)--Sex and the City

Lawyer = Big moneyJewish = Funny New Yorky sense of humorDoesn't Care About What People Think = Helpful tool for those of us prone to having soy sauce on our elbows and tripping while holding a latte.Believes in THE POWER of Love = I screamed a kicked my feet when they got engaged.

...but there are his bald and angry tendancies especially when it comes to sports on TV

3. Nathan Scott-- One Tree Hill

Bad-boy gone good basketball star, hopeless romantic for his lady, silly and lovely dad, has oodles of forgiveness.

...but he also has oodles of cheesy lines, and while they work with him and Hales...there's no way I'd dig that crap.

2. Jack Dawson--Titanic

As a girlfriend of mine once pointed out, "He's perfect. He's fun, cute, saves your life, dances, makes you into a timeless portrait, and inspires you. Then, he dies before things can get too serious."

...but he does take a lot of risks (gambling his way on the boat?) and I like to be a bit more grounded.

1. Cliff Pantone--Bring It On

Just look at him: a dark and dreamy yet very real version of that high school grunge guy you liked except much more self-confident and hygenic than that guy could ever be. He supports Torrence and his cool sis at every football game AND cheer tournament. He also biffs on bros in class and writes Tor a wild and dancey pop punk ballad after her biggest humiliation.

...but he does need Tor to make the first move once their crush is mutual. I'm not saying a guy has to always spark the flame, but it's a preference of mine. He also does have that whole storming-off-while-Tor-is-explaining-her-douche-boyfriend bit.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Had this problem ever since high school--a side-effect of my PMS is getting these super intense blasts of hunger for about thirty second intervals throughout the day. It's so deceptive.

It'll be a time when I might usually get hungry--but a normal hunger. Like a little pangbop of "mmm I could go for some noodles", but this special-uterus-driven hunger is anything normal multiplied by eighty. Like Sunday when it was an hour before our brunch reservations and suddenly I felt like I absolutely needed to go to the kitchen and eat the three pies my dad had just bought at the farmer's market Saturday morning. I didn't even think the apricot one would taste good. I just had no choice! But then, a few minutes passed and I felt fine. Driving from Chicago to a dinner date, I nearly leaped out the window of Pookie's car in desperation at a Dairy Queen before I realized it was a menstruation illusion. Great.

Phyl and I, Wonderful Town cast party, Spring 2009

Last spring Phyl had just finished telling me about how she has the same thing happen to her when suddenly with much urgency she told me she needed to eat several of my dark chocolate Easter eggs before dinner. Then the crazywave passed, her face softened, and she went back to her math homework.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Basically, I get nostalgic for like every single moment of my life once enough time passes. But, usually, things are pretty regular feeling. Or pretty stressy feeling. Or suck feeling. And then there are those golden moments when you are completely aware of the nostalgia you will once feel. And THEN, if you're REALLY lucky, there are golden moments that exist so beautifully you would only wish you could stay there forever if you could focus on anything else besides the glory of the present itself. This photo was one of THOSE moments.

Monday, December 7, 2009

When Pookie and I were in London last spring we decided while tromping around the city we would spontaneously attend the theatre. We checked for cheap tickets in the square and hemmed and hawed before I saw MOUSETRAP gloriously lit on the electronic screen. I squealed! MOUSETRAP! WE HAVE TO GO! She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, "Alice, that's the one show that doesn't get discounted. Full price tickets?" The emotional blow must have registered immediately as she agreed to appease me. When I was in third grade my dad told me about when he saw Mousetrap in his army days and how it was spectacular and how a real mouse ran across the stage and at the end they make the audience promise not to say whodunnit! We hoofed to the box office and purchased two tickets for the evening. I was beside myself with glee. We took a relaxing stroll for sandwiches and window shopping when we ran into a small bakery that looked like a rainbow threw up inside. It was called Candy Cakes, and the window displayed all sorts of ridiculous Dr. Seussical baked-goods. I dragged a drooling Pookie away. There was a long line, and I would scream if we were one minute late to the show. I could see her attempting to calculate how much of the play she would miss in exchange for one electric blue cupcake. She huffed and rushed along with me.Pookie was late getting to the concert last week. Traffic hit her harder than expected, and she was still on the road during Motion City Soundtrack. I had her ticket, and there was no reentry to the venue. There was no cell reception in the ballroom, so I was in this limbo of just standing right at the entrance waiting for my sister to show up, so I could hand her the ticket. As Motion City played on I got increasingly antsy. What if Andrew came on, and she still wasn't here? Oh God...would I just make her wait outside in the cold until his set was over? It wouldn't be more than forty minutes. But she's my sister. But, it's Andrew. And then I heard her yelling at me with an angry ticket taker waiting. I passed it into her hand and we ran to Mia with only a few minutes to spare. Afterwards I pondered what I would have done if given such an ultimatum.

Pookie: Thinking of you choosing between me and Andrew makes me think of me choosing between Mousetrap and Crazy Cakes.Alice: Was it called Crazy Cakes?Pookie: Candy Cakes. I was the crazy cake.

Yeah, I don't know what I was trying to prove besides how weird I am. The things I will do when I am full from a dessert tasting event (is exactly how it sounds, was exactly how you would imagine: delicious) and waiting for SNL to start.

the last time Pookie, Mia, and I saw a concert together: Jack's 8.08I like how this is a bad picture of all of us.

Friday, December 4, 2009

There is just way too much going on right now.Isn't that the most frustrating? When you're looking at your life and feeling like "no, no, that's too much" but you don't even know what it is? It is getting bogged down by a book or your laptop cord that burned a hole through itself or finding your headphones! Where are they?!

Why are you freaking out?

Oh? Maybe you should go to bed and get out more tomorrow. Oh. Okay. Maybe that.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Bride Wars (a very surprising B)The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (a well-earned A+)Star Trek (a solid B)The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (scootin' by with an A-)Fantastic Mr. Fox (diggin' an A-)Away We Go (A)Paranormal Activity (seen it before, that was an A, this time when my dad and I were alone in the theatre and he fell asleep...this time is probably a D)

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

It's rare that I like a love stories. Romantic films just don't cut it for me. My favorites aren't so sweet, and if I do enjoy a romantic comedy once in a while, it's the comedy not the romantic. Largely, I think this is because I find most all of it unbelievable.

When I was in 8th grade I loved loved loved Moulin Rouge. I remember being quite smitten with the love in that, but when I saw it a few years later, I had the same reaction I almost always do with lovey films: prove it. Prove to me those two people are in love. Then, I'll think about buying it. But, usually, perfect example with Moulin Rouge, we aren't given or shown much explanation of how the love actually happened--just what kind of love it is once it is there.

The Notebook is trash. But, even if it were actually well-scripted, I would still hate it because there is NO basis for Noah to simply decide on a ferris wheel he loves that pretty girl.

Well, tonight I think I got it! Movies don't have to time to explain everything. It is assumed you get what love is and how it happens and how you can prove it to YOU. Then you take that and apply it to the characters. And you love the love if you can imagine YOUR love fitting in those circumstances. It's like geometric proofs. Once you prove a theorem, you really don't need to show that proof for every continuing theorem. You can just know that AB is transitively equal to BC and get on with it. I watched Away We Go with Mia. I got on with it. I LOVED it. It was totally guilty of the non-explanation crime, but I was too lazy to care. What do you know? It was spectacular to me.

I just have to write something somewhere about Andrew McMahon or I'll explode. I can't write it to myself because everything gets just too creepy...jotting notes in my diary about art and Andrew blah blah blah. No, let me just barf some ideas out right here and right now before I clunk into a heavy heavy sleep that is WELL deserved. Holy Toledo, Weezer was a work-out. I was sweating buckets. BUCKETS. Irrelevant.

Important Ideas:

-I like to have a discourse with things and people and ideas. Not everyone does, but it's also not unique. It kills me to not have a discourse about Andrew's music with him maybe because I like it so much (God knows why--objectively, honestly, I know it's trashy) so much of it doesn't make any sense and I. Want. Answers. But, he's not famous enough that I can find answers...making me feel like I need to investigate them personally. Or, I just want my appreciation to be noticed. Either way, discourse denied.-Seeing him as an opener tonight was so sad! Hardly anyone cared, and he couldn't be interesting or charming at all. He played a snappy set of seven songs--the most well-known of his bunch, and high-tailed it off for the much less sharp but much more loved guys of Weezer to take over.-How much as an artist are you indebted to fans? What is the proper way to show respect (if any)? How would I like to in my life in any forms of art?